Conversations with Dead People
by Synaps
Summary: While the powers of a medium might be useful for solving murders, being a link to the spirit world is far from safe. When a ghost from Valerie's past comes looking for revenge, the only thing standing between her and her untimely demise is a dead teenager who wants her to bring a message to the ones he left behind. AU.
1. Flickering Lights

**Flickering Lights**

The office was deliberately warm and homely. A dark wooden desk matched the bookcases covering the far wall. The other walls were far from bare, a single diploma the only image that wasn't a flower. It was supposed to be comforting, but the pictures of white orchids looked like they had come with the frames.

Deep purple curtains were pulled to the sides, letting in the last of the day's light and colouring the scene in an orange tint.

Detective Valerie Gray spread out on the single sofa, pushing aside the many pillows. She casually faced the door, keeping only one eye on her companion. Years on the police force had left her with her fair share of paranoia.

Of course, most people who passed through the office shared that particular affliction. The sofa's positioning was as deliberate as the rest of the interior.

In an armchair facing the sofa sat Dr. Jasmine Fenton, Valerie's psychiatrist.

Dr. Fenton was, at least physically, the complete opposite of Valerie. Her smart blouse and teal cardigan stood in sharp contrast with Valerie's casual tank top and jeans. Her long red hair draped across her back, while Valerie sported a military-like short cut. Dr. Fenton was a skinny woman, with long arms and legs. Valerie was squat, her orange hoodie hiding muscles.

Yet, the two of them weren't nearly as different as they first appeared; They both had chosen their careers to help people.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you back on active duty."

Valerie only wished Dr. Fenton would let her do _her_ job.

"I'm fine. What's done is done. Sitting around moping about it won't help me." Valerie crossed her arms.

"You can't just avoid your problems." Dr. Fenton's voice was soft, like she was afraid her words would break Valerie further. "After what happened with your partner-"

"Ex-partner," corrected Valerie, her tone sharper than she had intended. She didn't want to be associated with _him_ anymore.

"Exactly." Dr. Fenton absent-mindedly tapped her pen against the paper. Her professional demeanour failed to hide her pity. "You're emotionally unstable, and you don't have the same support-system anymore."

Valerie couldn't deny that. Other than _him,_ she hadn't made any friends since she moved to the city. Even if she had kept up contact with her childhood friends, she couldn't imagine talking about something so serious with Paulina or Star and, silly as it sounded, she was too old to seek comfort with her dad.

No, Valerie was alone.

There was a soft ping, coming from the laptop on the abandoned desk. Dr. Fenton's head snapped up at the sound, her eyes landing on the simple clock hanging on the wall. "I'm sorry, that's it for today."

"Same time, same place for next week. I know the drill." Valerie sighed, but she was glad for the opportunity to escape Dr. Fenton's piercing eyes.

"Please make sure to actually come in next week."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Can't go back to work until you say so, anyhow," Valerie waved off the concern, like it was ridiculous to accuse her of skipping therapy.

Dr. Fenton was clearly not fooled, but she only nodded as she walked Valerie to the door and greeted her next patient. Judging by the time, probably her last patient for the day.

Night had fallen when Valerie finally went outside, the cold air soothing against her clammy skin.

Her motorcycle stood where she had left it, a sleek black beauty with shining chrome details. It was sporty and Japanese, rather than one of the American bikes she had admired in her youth. Still, it handled like a dream. She shrugged on a red leather jacket and matching helmet before taking off.

Rather than drive home, Valerie headed towards her gym. After talking (or rather, avoiding talking) with Dr. Fenton, she needed to vent her frustrations on a punching bag. The gym would still be open, despite the late hour. The owner, Kwan, didn't seem to ever go home.

Valerie turned a corner when a flash of blue light caught her eye. A couple of police cars stood near an alley.

Before she could even consider stopping herself, she pulled over.

Yellow and black tape bearing the words " _police line, do not cross"_ hung limply between the buildings. Behind it, people from the morgue were zipping up a body-bag.

Valerie stretched out an arm to push up the tape, bending slightly to pass under it, when someone called out to her.

"Oi, you can't just enter! This is a crime scene, not a tourist attraction!" An annoyed police quickly approached her. Valerie recognized the old officer, if only vaguely.

Valerie quickly flashed her badge. "I'm Detective Gray."

The officer's eyes narrowed. In that moment, the old man reminded her of her dad, and how he had looked whenever he caught her sneaking out at night in her youth. "Aren't you on a leave of absence?"

"Yes, well..."

The officer's eyes were hard, but not cold. He understood, on some level, even though he didn't approve. Still, there was no way he was going to budge and let her into the crime scene. A fresh wave of frustration went through Valerie, but she walked away without making any fuzz. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands, and she forced herself to unclench her fingers.

She was tired, had been for weeks. Sleep did nothing to help against the weariness than ran through her bones.

Sometimes, she didn't think she'd ever feel normal again.

On a rickety fire escape, the type that was a just metal staircase hanging off the outside of a building, sat a teenager. He was craning his neck to get a better view of the crime scene.

"It's rude to stare. Somebody died." Valerie kept her voice low enough that she wouldn't draw attention from the cops.

The kid turned towards her, wide eyes looking around as if he expected her to be addressing someone else.

Valerie stared at him, her hands on her hips.

"Yes, well... I _know,_ but-"He seemed startled, but she didn't have the patience for excuses.

"Then quit gawking."

"Yes ma'am!"

She nodded curtly and turned away.

The kid scrambled to his feet. "Wait!"

Valerie gave him as unimpressed look as she could muster, but she stopped walking.

Taking that as an invitation, the teenage boy sitting on the second floor fire escape casually vaulted over the side, head first.

Valerie nearly cried out, before the kid impossibly righted himself in the air and landed unharmed on his feet.

There was no sound as he landed.

Valerie's heart beat loudly in her ears, adrenaline slowly receding as it became apparent that nobody was in danger.

The kid smiled at her sheepishly, a hand rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, didn't think."

"You're a ghost." Valerie was too shocked to hide the note of revulsion that entered her voice. Her eyes moved towards the crime scene, and the body bag. It had been small enough to contain the scrawny teenager that stood in front of her.

He was dressed in a baggy t-shirt and jeans, making his twig-like arms look even thinner. Black hair, blue eyes, a guileless expression on his face. His defensive body language made him seem like the type of kid other kids picked on.

Unlike most ghosts who stuck around on the mortal plane, he had no immediately obvious cause of death. No gaping wounds or anything like that, making Valerie wonder how exactly he had died.

"You can see me." The ghost boy's eyes sparkled with wonder.

"No," answered Valerie in perfect deadpan, without breaking eye contact.

Rather than take offence, the teen smirked at the joke before turning serious. "Listen, I know we just met, but I need a favour."

"Listen, ordinarily I'd help you out, but since I'm banned from working-"

"I don't want you to catch my killer or anything like that, just pass along some messages."

"No."

"No?" The teen's eyes widened, and he looked like his entire world had fallen apart. "But you're the only one who can see me!"

"I've got enough of my own problems. Catching murderers is one thing, it's my job and an eye witness only helps, but I don't go out of my way to do favours for just anybody I run into on the street."

"But-"

"No. You've got no right to ask anything of me! Leave me alone!" She had to suppress the surge of guilt as she saw the ghost kid's crestfallen expression. She sighed, deflating as her anger left her. Her next words came out as little more than a whisper. "Please leave me alone."

* * *

 _Valerie held onto her father's hand, craning her neck to look at his face. She was seven years old, and he was a giant in her eyes._

 _He smiled at her. She beamed at him, showing off her missing front tooth._

 _It was a sunny day in suburbia, with plenty of families walking to the playground._

 _Valerie was preparing to run off with the other kids when she saw him._

 _He was an adult man with unremarkable features. Brown hair, forgettable face._ _ _He had a vacant expression._ All in all, someone who could easily blend into a crowd.  
_

 _Except for the fact that his chest had been torn open, revealing his ribs and guts. His entire front was covered in blood._

 _Valerie held harder onto her dad's hand, halfway hiding behind him. He gave her a worried look that she didn't notice._

 _Paulina's mom walked straight through the injured man, as if he wasn't even there._

 _The man, who had previously been distracted by his own thoughts, jerked back as if struck. His eyes darted from Paulina's mom, to the other adults, never stopping for more than a few seconds. "Please, help me." His voice sounded strangled, like it hurt for him to speak. "Please... Somebody... Anybody!"_

 _The man's eyes met Valerie's._

 _She was too terrified to look away._

" _You can see me."_

Valerie woke with a start, jerkily sitting up. Her breathing was shallow and uneven. The image of the dead man's injuries was stuck on the insides of her eyelids.

It was on weak legs that she walked into her kitchen, and it was with shaking hands that she poured herself a glass of water. The gulped it down too quickly, still standing over the sink.

The coldness of her drink helped wake her up fully, banishing her memories back to the realm of nightmares.

Yellow light from the street lamps outside filtered in from her small kitchen window, making the remaining shadows deeper by contrast. Valerie flickered on the lamp over the stove, because it was the closest one.

When she turned around, the ghost boy from the alley was casually longing on her only kitchen chair.

She was still shaking, her forehead covered with a thin layer of cold sweat, and she would have hated him for seeing her that way if she had the energy to muster up any emotion.

There were plenty of things Valerie wanted to say to him. _How did you find me?_ and _I told you to leave me alone_ were at the top of the list. She settled for "Get out of my seat."

He flashed her an apologetic grin and got to his feet, letting her collapse into the chair. "I'm Danny, by the way."

"Don't care, go away."

Danny sat down on her counter, hand passing through the empty glass she had abandoned without tipping it over. She glared at him weakly, still emotionally exhausted.

"Why do you only have one chair?"

"I don't _need_ more than one."

"But what if you have friends over?"

She didn't dignify that with a response. Danny didn't seem overly bothered by it.

"So... What's your first name, Detective Gray?"

"You don't need to know that."

"If you won't tell me, I'll just make one up." Danny smirked and brought his hands up to frame her between his fingers. He closed one eye and looked at her in thought. "You look like a... Jennifer."

"No."

"Joanna?"

"No."

"Jessica?"

"It doesn't begin with a 'J'."

"Miranda!" Danny snapped his fingers, grinning widely.

She wanted to wipe that smile off his face. "It's Valerie."

"Valerie? Okay, I guess that could work." Danny nodded to himself. "Valerie... Val... _Valkyrie._ "

"Thanks," she said flatly, not bothering with hiding her sarcasm to spare his feelings. "I always wanted a nonsensical nickname."

A chill went through the room, making all the fine hairs on Valerie's arms stand up.

"Something is wrong." Danny's head snapped up, and the looked around the room with wide eyes. Almost unthinkingly, he got to his feet and moved closer to her.

"An angry ghost." Valerie whispered the words, as if saying them out loud would attract the attention of a large predator. It felt surreal, like a nightmare had somehow followed her into the waking world.

"An angry-"

The old TV in Valerie's living room turned on by itself, showing the random changing "snow" rather than the news channel she had left it on. The screech of static echoed through the apartment.

A thin crack appeared in the abandoned glass on the counter.

"We need to leave!" Valerie was a blur of motion, snatching up her keys and jacket. "We need to leave right now!"

"I don't understand!"

The glass exploded, showering the kitchen in sharp shards. Valerie barely had time to throw her arms up to cover her face, leaving her with hundreds of small wounds.

Ignoring the blood dripping down her arms, Valerie snatched up her phone and ran.

The corridor outside her apartment was painted in a cheery yellow, which had faded over time into a dull colour. The stairs leading outside were cut stone, wide and spiralling. The ceiling lamps flickered.

Valerie had placed her first foot on the staircase when she felt a hand on her back.

Her eyes widened and she reached for the handrails when the hand roughly pushed her forward, towards the stone steps.

"Valerie!"

She could barely hear Danny's scream, her blood pounded too loudly through her ears.

Cold fingers closed around her outstretched hand.

The pressure was too light, the fingers barely there, but it was enough to stop her from tumbling forward. She collapsed in a pile at the top of the steps.

When she turned and looked behind her, Danny was looking at his hands with awe.

The lamps stopped flickering.

* * *

 **AN:** This thing will be 4 (or possibly 5) chapters long.


	2. Fresh Wounds and Old Hurts

**AN:** Just because a character is a ghost in canon doesn't make them a ghost in this AU.

* * *

 **Fresh Wounds and Old Hurts**

The light in Valerie's bathroom shone strongly, without any signs of flickering.

She sat on the toilet, the lid closed to give her more support. In her lap was a battered old first aid kid in tin, with old red and white paint still covering most of the box.

It was with steady hands and practised motions that Valerie started treating the shallow wounds on her arms. The old box contained the anti-septic and band-aids she needed, even if the band-aids were a "nude" colour that didn't in the slightest blend into her skin tone.

Danny the ghost boy hovered nervously by the door. "What _was_ that?Are you okay?"

"A poltergeist, an angry ghost out for revenge." Valerie explained it without giving in to emotion, her voice taking on a tired monotone. "Did you see anything?"

"No. Whoever it was, they were invisible... I didn't even know ghosts could _do_ that!" Danny's blue eyes were wide, and he was biting down hard on his lip.

"Yes, well, some can." Valerie waved lazily, most of her attention still on her cuts. "...Thanks for saving me, before."

Danny perked up a bit at the last part. "No problem. It's... It's nice to be able to help."

She couldn't hold back a small smile at that. Danny wasn't all that bad, once you got to know him.

"How did you know what was happening?" Danny shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.

"That... That wasn't my first poltergeist." Unable to bring herself to look at Danny directly, Valerie's eyes found him in the bathroom mirror.

"Does that happen a lot?" Danny looked a bit green in the face.

"It's only happened to me once before, but I... I'm not likely to forget it." Her voice shook, ever so slightly.

"What happened?" Despite Danny's soft tone, Valerie flinched.

"None of your business."

Danny took a small step backwards and pulled up his hands in a placating gesture. "Well, in any case, I think it's best if I stick around. You know, if they come back and try to kill you again."

Valerie's eyes snapped to Danny. She didn't know what to say. Worry and gratitude mixed into an incomprehensible mess.

He seemed to understand that, because he just smiled weakly in a way that was probably meant to be comforting.

Finally, she found her voice. "You don't have to."

She went back to mending her wounds, going from her arms to her slightly less injured stomach. Her elbow made contact with the package of bandages, making the box drop to the floor beneath Danny's feet. By force of habit, the ghost bent down to pick it up. His fingers passed through the box. He stared at them as if betrayed.

"You're a ghost, ghost boy."

"But I was able to grab _you._ "

Valerie shrugged. "Maybe you don't want it enough, this time."

"That's... actually possible." Danny's eyes were alight with what could only be scientific curiosity. He experimentally poked the box, to no effect.

Valerie finally finished patching herself up.

"I should leave, in case the poltergeist comes back." She sighed, but this time at least she had the time to pack up a few essentials and drop them into her pockets. She even crammed a protein bar into her mouth as she locked the door to her apartment.

"You don't have a plan, do you?" Danny rocked back and forth on his heels.

"Not getting killed."

"That's a goal, not a plan." Danny shook his head. "It's a good thing you've got me. I'm the master of thinking on my feet."

"I see." She stared at him flatly.

"So, what do you say? Partners?" He extended a hand in her direction, ignoring how she wouldn't be able to take it.

"My last partner died." She wasn't sure why she told him that, maybe she wanted to scare him off. She braced herself for the standard fake sympathy.

Danny's eyes softened, but he pushed on. "It's like you said; I'm a ghost. You don't have to worry about me."

Valerie looked down on the young teenager. His face an open book, innocent and kind. He was the opposite of her last partner in every way that mattered.

She gently held her hand against the empty space where Danny's was. A slight tingle went through her fingers where they touched him, gone quickly enough that she could write it off as her imagination. "Fine, partners."

"Great." Danny beamed. "In that case, I think I know where we can go to hide."

"Is it with one of those friends of yours that you want me to bring a message to?"

"Yes."

* * *

Valerie had to stop herself from outwardly cringing as she looked at the old bar. Twenty other motorcycles stood where she parked hers, leading her to believe the place to be frequented by a biker gang.

Danny hadn't ridden with her, an impossibility for a ghost, but he somehow appeared outside the bar as soon as she arrived. Valerie didn't ask for any clarifications on how he managed that, mainly because she didn't _want_ to know more about ghosts.

As soon as she entered the bar, all eyes found her.

The place wasn't quite as run-down as it appeared from the outside, but the teenager she had once been wouldn't have been caught dead in the place. If Paulina and Star could see her... Well, neither Paulina nor Star mattered anymore, so it was no big deal.

The bar was packed, loud voices drowned in louder rock music. The interior was dark, a study in wood and deep red fabric.

Through it all, one word reached her, muttered in every corner of the room. "Badge."

Of course, Valerie's aura screamed _'cop'._ It was in the way she held herself, in the way her eyes searched the room. It was painfully obvious to anyone who knew what to look for.

And _of course_ people in that particular bar wouldn't like police officers. Gang members so rarely did.

A woman with dyed blue hair in a ponytail and black crop top gave Valerie a particularly nasty look. When the woman made a move to intercept Valerie, she wished she was still allowed to carry her service weapon.

Valerie did a few quick calculations in her head. She was alone, save for the ghost boy who couldn't touch things, while the angry stranger had two others at her table. If it came to blows, Valerie would be outnumbered even before the rest of the customers decided they wanted in on the action.

Before Valerie could decide on whether to risk ignoring the woman or not, one of the others by the table caught her eye.

Dirty blonde hair, freckles, leather jacket, and arm still in a cast.

"Hi, Johnny."

"Detective Gray." He smiled cheekily, more confident than he had any right to be. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

"Someone you know?" The other woman at the table, one with horrible green hair (a bad dye job if Valerie had ever seen one) looked between Johnny and Valerie with narrowed eyes.

"Kitty, Ember, this is the badge who saved me."

After the way the rest of the force had reacted to the incident, a warm feeling slithered through Valerie's chest at the simple acknowledgement. At least _somebody_ thought she had handled the situation correctly.

"Oh." Ember sat back, allowing the angry atmosphere to diffuse. "Well, in _that_ case."

"How's the..." Valerie looked pointedly towards Johnny's arm.

"The doctor said he'd be back to normal by next month," said Kitty.

"Ah... That's good."

"How's..." Johnny gestured vaguely at nothing in particular.

Danny was looking between them with poorly concealed interest.

Valerie shrugged, suppressing a wince. "As good as you could expect."

"If you ever need anything, you can always ask me." Johnny looked serious, dropping the faked casualness. Maybe he felt a bit responsible for how things had played out.

"Actually, there is one thing."

Johnny tensed, obviously having hoped she wouldn't take him up on his offer.

"I'm looking for Sam Manson."

"Is this a cop thing? Because I don't sell out my friends, even to you."

"No. They suspended me after the whole... you know. This is personal."

"Ah, in that case... Sam Manson is the goth chick with the bad attitude." Johnny pointed at a shadowy corner.

"Thanks."

When Danny had said one of his best friends could be found in a bar, Valerie had been worried. Fourteen year olds did drink, sure, but it was both unhealthy and illegal. Suspended or not, Valerie would have tried to do something about it.

Except, Sam Manson was not fourteen.

Why was Danny's best friend a thirty year old woman?

Now, seriously. It was confusing, in a bad way. Was she part of a mentoring program or something?

Danny, completely ignorant of Valerie's worries, gave her a thumbs-up when he saw the goth. "That's her. That's Sam."

Sam Manson was a dark haired woman with purple lipstick and pierced eyebrows. She wore a long purple coat and a choker with a tangling pendant of the 'meant to look occult' variety.

 _'I have so many questions.'_

Well, best start with one she knew the answer to. "Sam Manson?"

"Depends on who's asking." Manson gave Valerie a judging look, and Valerie couldn't help but feel like she had been found lacking.

"Valerie Gray... This... This is hard, but..."

It had only been a day since she had first met Danny. In an alley. Next to his body.

For all Valerie knew, Manson didn't even know yet. It took time to get the information out, even after you had identified a body. Of course, that seemed unlikely given the message Danny wanted Valerie to give her...

It was going to be painful either way.

"Have you heard the news?" Valerie's soft tone earned her Manson's full attention.

"Can't say I have." Manson raised an eyebrow, expertly hiding her curiosity.

"Your friend, Danny..." Valerie suddenly realised that she didn't know Danny's surname. She turned slightly to ask it, when Manson loudly put down her glass on the table.

"What?" The word was strangled, like Manson barely got it past her lips.

"He's dead." Valerie said it as kindly as she could.

"I _know."_ Manson's voice was tight.

"I've met his ghost, and he wanted me to bring you a message." She got the words out quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. She knew immediately that it was the wrong way to go about things, but comforting people had never been her strong suit.

" _What?"_ Despite her quasi-occult jewellery, Sam Manson seemed immediately skeptical to the existence of ghosts.

"He said he doesn't blame you for his death. That it was an accident, and he knows that."

"Get. Out." Manson's eyes flashed. Her grip on her near empty glass was strong enough that Valerie worried it would shatter in her hand. Or possibly over Valerie's head.

Danny looked at his friend with big eyes. His mouth hung slightly open, like he had forgotten to close it. He wrung his hands together.

"I'm not trying to scam you, or anything." Valerie couldn't help but defend herself, even though she could tell it was a hopeless case. Manson's wounds were too fresh.

"Get. Out!"

"Right. Sorry. Bye." Valerie nodded curtly and escaped.

Danny was by her side as soon as she exited the bar. He seemed sad, like a heavy weight had been added to his shoulders. "I'm sorry about Sam."

"I can't believe you're friends with her in the first place."

"She's not that bad." Danny looked offended on behalf of his friend, apparently misunderstanding Valerie's confusion as to being related to Manson's attitude. Not that Valerie wasn't worried about that, too. "Not usually, anyhow."

"If you say so."

"Well, I'm sure meeting Tucker will go better."

"Are you? Are you _really_ sure?" Valerie gave the ghost as skeptical look as she could muster. If she wasn't grateful for his help with the poltergeist,she would abandon his little quest. "I'm obviously not very good at this."

"Oh, don't worry. Tucker is always willing to talk to pretty women."

* * *

 **AN:** Valerie is working with an incomplete picture of things, as well as a few misunderstandings, but I promise that explanations await in the next chapter.


	3. Burden of Proof

**Burden of Proof**

It was a cold autumn evening.

Valerie had huddled up at a cafe, clutching a cup of overpriced coffee like it was her last lifeline.

Outside, the wind had picked up, scattering leaves dyed in orange and trash across the street. Though the sun had yet to set, the sky was dark with a thick layer of clouds. The top floors skyscraper that housed Dalv Co's headquarters was barely visible as grey against grey.

The street was almost empty, making keeping track of who came and went from the building easy.

Valerie was waiting for Tucker Foley, a member of the IT department.

She suspected that Danny's other best friend also was in his thirties.

She was growing more and more concerned about Danny's lack of friends his own age.

If he hadn't been a ghost, she would have tried to do something about it. Introduce him to some people, or something.

However, that was irrelevant. Because he _was_ a ghost.

Danny was already dead. Wanting to help him would do little good.

So why had she agreed to talk to his friends?

Valerie sighed into her coffee, breathing in the steam.

Opposite her hung a painfully cheerful painting of a smiling young woman. She looked away from it, towards the cold greys of the outside world. There was still no sign of Danny, who had abandoned her to scout out his friend.

The air was heavy with tension, like a thunderstorm was lying in wait.

All the fine hairs on Valerie's neck stood up, and she looked up from her rapidly cooling coffee to face Danny.

"I found Tuck. He's on his way out." Danny smiled, seemingly unaware of how his very presence affected his surroundings.

Valerie nodded curtly, and pulled up her cellphone and pressed it to her ear. "Lead the way."

"Ooooh, that's smart." Danny's face brightened with his wide smile. "Now people won't think you're talking to yourself."

"That's the idea," she answered dryly.

As the two of them left the cafe, Valerie couldn't help but glance at the painting again. The painted woman's smile was suddenly more of a sneer.

Valerie ignored it. She was probably just imagining things.

The outside was as dreary as it looked. Valerie huddled into her coat, and tried to ignore how Danny was only wearing a t-shirt and jeans.

 _Ghosts._

Valerie rolled her eyes to herself as Danny waved towards someone who had just exited Dalv Co.

The guy was scrawny, with square glasses and dreadlocks. He looked exactly like she had imagined him when Danny told her about his work.

"Tucker Foley?" Valerie kept her body language open and inviting of a conversation.

Tucker Foley's eyes widened slightly as he realised that she was talking to him, before a confident smile made it's way to his face. "That's me."

"I'd like to talk with you." Valerie smiled. Hopefully, it didn't look as fake as it felt. "Is the coffee shop across the street okay?"

"Ah? Yeah, sure." Despite Foley's confident smile, his eyes held more than a little confusion. His eyes travelled across the cafe, and he obviously decided that the place was public enough that Valerie could do nothing truly terrible to him.

The two of them sat down at the table Valerie had previously abandoned. Foley got himself a coffee. Valerie didn't bother.

"Tucker Foley." Valerie sighed and got down to business. After the disaster with Manson, she and Danny had talked about how to approach Foley. "You once threw up in Sam Manson's lunch and blamed Ricky Marsh. She pushed him off the monkey bars."

Foley's eyes widened to comical proportions. All his previous optimistic confidence was gone. "Erm... Ah... Yes. How?"

"Somebody told me."

"But the only one who knew about that..." Foley trailed off. He leaned forward and lowered his voice into a whisper. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "The only one who knew that was _Danny_."

"Mr. Foley, I am a medium." Valerie carefully stacked her fingers. "Danny's ghost asked me to talk to you."

Foley looked conflicted, like he wanted to deny everything but couldn't. Apparently Danny's story held water. "Is he here right now."

Valerie made a sweeping gesture at the seat next to Foley.

Foley looked both hopeful and worried. "Ask him what my favourite food is."

"He can hear you himself," pointed Valerie out dryly.

"It's meat." Danny looked fondly at his friend.

"Not even a specific meat? Just 'meat'?" Valerie gave Danny a disbelieving look, and Foley a judgemental one. "Seriously?"

"Danny! It's really you!" Foley smiled widely.

"Your favourite food is meat." Valerie let her face drop into her hands. "Danny, why are all your friends weird?"

"Oh, you met Sam?" Foley smiled, ignoring the implied insult like a pro. "Have you talked to Jazz yet?"

"Jazz?"

"Jazz Fenton? His sister? I think she works as-"

"A shrink. My shrink." Valerie glared at Danny. "Anything you want to tell me?"

Danny fidgeted. "That's how I really found you. You saw me in the waiting room once."

Valerie tilted her head in thought. "I don't remember that."

Danny shrugged. "I didn't say anything. I was too shocked to."

"Then that wasn't your corpse in the alley?"

"I never said it was."

Foley frowned. "Okay, so I'm only keeping up with half of the conversation, but Danny was cremated."

Valerie felt a nagging suspicion. "And exactly _when_ did Danny die?"

"Fifteen years ago." Foley made it sound like a question.

"You've been a ghost for fifteen years?" Valerie turned back towards Danny. "You've been a ghost for fifteen years and you don't know about poltergeists?"

"It's not like death comes with a manual. I've spend most of my time breaking into people's houses and watching their TVs."

"What's this about poltergeists?" Foley looked between Valerie and what he perceived as an empty space, but was actually pretty close to where Danny was sitting. Foley's brows bumped together in a frown.

"I'm a cop. I've pissed off people. One of them tried to kill me." Valerie adopted an air of casual indifference, even though the entire situation terrified her. She put her shaking hands in her lap, so they were hidden by the table. "Danny volunteered to be my bodyguard."

"Should I be worried about this? I think I should be worried about this." Foley adjusted his glasses.

"Poltergeists are vengeful spirits driven by anger and single-minded hate," she explained, trying not to remember the _other_ time she had seen a poltergeist. "I don't think they even notice anyone but the person they want to get revenge on."

"Okaaaaaay." Foley drew out the word, obviously less than convinced. "So, what did Danny want to tell me?"

"He doesn't blame you for his death, and he's sorry about Nora, whoever that is. Ex-girlfriend?"

"Nora was my PDA. Danny broke her."

"I said I was sorry." Danny pouted at his friend pointlessly, since said friend couldn't see ghosts.

"I see." Valerie stared flatly at the guys, feeling like a disgruntled third wheel. "Well, Foley. If you can pass the message along to Manson, I'd be thankful."

"What, scared of Sam?" Foley smirked.

"I'm a police officer. I fight crime for a living. I meet hardened criminals every day."

"You're scared of Sam."

"She's angry, dangerous, and, _yes,_ a little intimidating. I can respect that."

Foley shrugged. "Well, Sam needs to talk to Danny directly, so I'm going to help you get over your fear."

"I am _so_ grateful." Valerie stared at him flatly, mouth pressed into a thin line.

* * *

Tucker Foley's apartment was much more of an actual _home_ than Valerie's. The walls were decorated with reproductions of classical art which he said were gifts from his parents, and the windows let in a lot of light. They were on the seventh floor, and the view was spectacular. The living room contained no less than three personal computers, as well as one pile of motherboards and cords that she couldn't identify. The coffee table in front of the sofa was covered in books.

Sam Manson looked perfectly comfortable, like she visited all the time. This only served to unnerve Valerie further, since it meant Manson had the home advantage. Or the home of a friend advantage, same difference.

Foley and Manson shared the sofa, while Valerie stole the office chair from Foley's work area. Danny was pacing the room, buzzing with excitement.

"Listen, I realize that you must have said something to Tucker to make him believe you." Manson's stare was intense, and it took all of Valerie's willpower to not squirm under it. "But I'm not convinced. How do I know you didn't just hire a private detective, or stalk us yourself, or something?"

Danny looked a bit crestfallen, but he squared his shoulders and stepped forward. Valerie gave him an even look, but he didn't volunteer any more stories about his past.

Instead, he very carefully reached out towards one of the books on the table.

Predictably, his hand passed right through it.

"Danny, I don't think that's gonna work," said Valerie from the corner of her mouth.

"Yes. It. Is." Danny scowled and uselessly poked the book again. "I figured it out. It _is_ about emotions, and about _really_ wanting it. Poltergeists can move stuff no problem, and being emotional and _really_ wanting something is their entire deal. Now I _really_ want to make Sam believe you."

Valerie felt like hiding her face in her hands, to escape the mess she had landed herself in.

Danny gave an unheard war cry and punched the book.

It slid across the table.

Manson, who had been watching Valerie with suspicion, jumped slightly in her seat.

Foley looked smug, barely managing to hide his own surprise.

Danny grinned brightly.

"Okay." Manon practically exhaled the word, tense shoulders dropping. "Since it turns out you're not just some con-artist trying to scam me-" Manson looked uncomfortable, obviously not used to apologizing. "-I'm sorry about the other night."

"It's fine. So, any questions to your dead friend?" Valerie said the last part nonchalantly, like having the opportunity to talk to the ghost of your childhood friend wasn't a big deal.

Foley laughed, and Manson's mouth twitched.

The ceiling lamp flickered.

Valerie swore and got to her feet.

Manson and Foley tensed, not understanding but picking up on Valerie's distress.

"The poltergeist is back." Valerie threw the words over her shoulder as she ran towards the front door.

"I'll try to hold them off," said Danny and disappeared.

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Valerie opened the door, only for it to slam shut in her face. She tried turning the handle again, but despite pushing her entire weight against it, the door didn't move.

The two humans followed Valerie. Foley inhaled a sharp breath as he realised that they were trapped.

Manson's mouth clenched shut and she bodily pulled both Valerie and Foley into the kitchen. She took charge with confidence that was most likely faked. "Tucker, where's your salt?"

"Salt?" Despite his confused protests, Foley pointed to the cabinet above his stove.

Manson quickly pulled out a big container of table salt, and handed it to Foley with steady hands. "Draw a circle with this."

Tucker nodded, and started pouring salt all over his clean kitchen floor. "If this doesn't work, I'm gonna make you clean it up."

"If this doesn't work, we'll probably be dead." Sam rolled her eyes, surprisingly calm under pressure. She pulled out several quasi-occult necklaces from her pocket. "Gray, wear this."

"What?" croaked Valerie as she mechanically put on the pendants.

"I might have researched ghosts after I met you."

"Aw, Sammy wanted to believe all along," smirked Tucker as he continued drawing lines of salt.

"Shut up." Sam looked around the room, clearly thinking about what else they could do.

"The salt circle is done!"

"Right, everyone in the circle."

Just as the trio jumped behind the unbroken salt lines, Danny came crashing through the wall. He fell over, landing on the floor like somebody had punched him in the face.

The creature that followed him was barely visible, even to Valerie. It was as if the ghost was hidden behind a wall of static, constantly glitching into pure white. She could make out broad shoulders, a square jaw and a hat. Glowing green eyes locked onto Valerie, completely forgetting about Danny.

Valerie froze under the hatred in those eyes.

The poltergeist stepped closer to the unmoving humans.

Manson's fingers dug into Valerie's shoulder, while Foley had his friend in a hug that resembled some sort of martial art full-body bind.

Two pale hands stretched for Valerie's throat. If ghost powers were controlled by emotions or willpower, there was no doubt those hand would choke the life out of her.

The hands stopped.

Valerie could barely tear her eyes away from the poltergeist, but a glance downwards confirmed that the hands had stopped just before the line of salt.

"Manson, I think your salt thing is working." Valerie remembered how to breathe.

The ghost's green eyes narrowed, and all the kitchen cabinets flew open.

The glasses started to shake.

"Everyone, get down!" Valerie turned around, preparing to knock the others to the ground.

Danny roared and threw himself at the other ghost, knocking it down.

The glasses stilled and the ghost punched Danny in the stomach.

Danny in turn threw a decent punch in the poltergeist's face, making him stumble.

The ghost drew himself to his full height, towering over the not-actually-teenager. A hateful look was directed at the salt.

Valerie felt blindly behind her, taking the container from Foley. "Danny, stay back!"

Danny jumped back just as Valerie threw the salt shaker into the poltergeist's face.

For a moment, the glitchy white face turned into something recognizable, before the ghost disappeared.

The lights overhead stopped flickering.

"Is it gone?" Foley said the words breathlessly.

Valerie's knees buckled, and she sat down on the floor with a thud. "For now."

Manson and Foley shared a worried look.

"Can I just... sit here for a while?"

"Yeah, take as long as you need." Foley gracelessly dropped down next to her.

Manson folded her legs and sat down next to Foley, leaning against her friend in silent support. "Is Danny okay?"

It was harder than it should have been to lift her head to check, but when she did she was rewarded with a tired but otherwise fine ghost boy.

"He's fine."

"Oh, good." Foley sagged against Manson.

"Valerie, what's wrong?" Danny hunched down outside the salt line, looking worried.

"I recognized the poltergeist."

"That's good," said Foley, not really reading her mood. "Who is it?"

"His name is... _was_ Walker. He was a cop. And my partner."


	4. Partners

**Partners**

After sitting an entire night on the kitchen floor surrounded by salt, snoozing but not really falling asleep deeply for fear of Walker returning, Manson and Foley became Sam and Tucker.

The first rays of sun filtered through the window. Valerie yawned widely. Sam barely had her eyes open, looking like a sleepwalker as she stumbled around. Tucker was no better off. The three of them got up only to collapse into Tucker's kitchen chairs.

Danny was annoyingly alert. Freaking ghosts and their freaking lack of bodily needs.

"Tucker, coffee," groaned Sam as she buried her face in the table.

"Make it yourself."

"It's _your_ apartment."

"Uuuuurgh."

"I'll get it." Valerie got up. Despite the lack of proper sleep, she was a morning person. The same could obviously not be said of Sam or Tucker. "Where is it?"

Tucker pointed.

Valerie busied herself with making coffee, in a ridiculously advanced machine that took a while to figure out. There were too many unmarked buttons.

Danny jumped up to sit at the counter next to her. "You okay, Valkyrie?"

"I'll live," she answered, only realising _after_ she said it that it might be an inconsiderate thing to say to a ghost.

"As long as that poltergeist doesn't come back, at least." Danny had a dark look on his face.

"He _will_ come back." Valerie's lips thinned. There was really no doubt about it.

"So, erm... _Why_ does he want to kill you?"

Valerie's fingers tightened involuntarily, pausing as she held the coffee pot under the sink to fill it with water. The pot was heavy, and soon past the point of overfilling. She didn't notice as the edge of her hoodie grew damp.

Danny flinched when he saw her expression.

She took a deep, calming breath and counted to ten. It helped, if only a little. She pulled away the full pot and started filling the coffee maker.

Valerie raised her voice enough that all the occupants of the room could hear her, even without turning away from the wall she was facing. "Walker wants me dead because I'm the one who killed him."

"Wait, _what!?_ " Tucker loudly pushed his chair away from the table. "Why!?"

Valerie carefully measured out the coffee.

Danny placed a hand on her shoulder. It would have been comforting if she had been able to feel it.

"It was... I didn't mean to." Valerie's voice shook.

A hand landed on her shoulder, heavy and warm and _alive._

Valerie turned her head to face Sam's worried eyes.

"What happened?"

"I figured you would have heard about it." Despite how comforting the hand was, Valerie shrugged it off. She stood hunched down, face towards the floor. "You know Johnny."

Sam blinked in confusion, before her eyes widened and her face paled. "His accident."

" _That_ was no accident." Valerie spat the last word. It tasted like poison on her tongue. "Johnny got caught speeding, and Walker decided toact as judge, jury and executioner."

Sam took a small step back.

Valerie straightened her spine, standing tall once more. Anger surged through her veins, a welcome change. "We were partners, I was there for the whole thing... Walker actually thought I'd _help_ _him_ beat up some guy who wasn't even resisting!"

Tucker sucked in a sharp breath.

"I wasn't about to just stand aside while he killed someone." Valerie gripped the counter to stop her hands from shaking. "I didn't want _anyone_ to die that night."

None of her companions seemed to know what to say to that.

"That's why Walker wants to kill me. Why he won't stop until he has." Valerie shook her head, not bothering with looking at the ones she was talking to. "When he's killed me he'll be able to move on, and he won't hurt anyone else."

Rough hands on her shoulder forced Valerie to turn around and face Sam. "You are not going to let yourself be killed due to some misplaced sense of guilt!"

"But-"

"But nothing! We'll find a way to beat him."

Valerie couldn't help but pick up on the 'we', and immediately object to it. "I'm not going to drag you into my mess. You might get hurt."

"We know," said Tucker from his place by the table. "That's not going to stop us."

"You barely even know me."

Sam and Tucker shared a look Valerie couldn't even begin to decipher. Danny snorted, apparently perfectly able to understand all of it.

"We had a sleep-over, I think that makes us official BFFs," joked Tucker.

"We know you're a good person." Sam glared like she was expecting an argument. "That's enough for us."

Valerie's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes burned.

Sam and Tucker shared another _look,_ not knowing they were joined by Danny.

For the first time in ages, Valerie's mouth twisted into a genuine smile, albeit a crooked one. "Thank you."

* * *

Sam's apartment was a study in black and very dark purples. The only true contrast was the white lines of salt they had drawn across the entire apartment.

Dark walls made the rooms seem smaller than they were, even while the apartment itself was fairly large. Valerie didn't know what Sam did for a living, but the other woman was clearly loaded, even as she tried to hide it.

The fact that she _did_ try to hide it spoke of shame of her own wealth. Either inherited money or some shady business practices were involved. Valerie was willing to bet on the former.

Not that any of that mattered. The thing the four of them had travelled across town for was Sam's extensive collection of quasi-occult literature.

"There's got to be _something_ in here about fighting ghosts." Sam waved at the seven bookshelves.

Fighting ghosts. She could barely get her mind around the concept.

If someone had suggested the idea to Valerie _before_ the salt incident, she would have laughed in their face. Now, however, ghosts didn't seem quite as untouchable anymore.

"Well then." Tucker looked at the books and cracked his knuckles. "If we're gonna do this, we need mood music."

Sam gave him a level look, bordering on a glare.

Tucker ignored her as he pulled out an MP3-player and tiny set of speakers. After a few seconds of fiddling, an immediately recognizable song started playing.

"Ghostbusters?" Danny let out a short, barking laugh.

"Ghostbusters?" echoed Sam, unknowingly, and rolled her eyes.

"I doubt a vacuum cleaner is the breakthrough we're looking for, but let's keep that as Plan B in case we don't find anything else." Valerie pulled out the closest leather bound volume, flipping through the pages.

The three humans in the room each sat down with a book and started reading. Danny pretended he wasn't effectively useless.

Minutes and hours passed in companionable silence, only interrupted for sarcastic commentary.

"You said you'd run into a poltergeist before?" Tucker flipped over to lie on his stomach, a look of perfect boredom on his face. "How did you get rid of it that time?"

"We didn't."

"What happened?" Danny leaned forward.

"My mother-" Valerie bit her lip. "-was killed in front of me."

Danny scowled. Sam sucked in a sharp breath. Tucker looked like he was going to be sick.

"She didn't leave a ghost behind." Valerie's fists clenched. "She _knew_ I could see ghosts, but she didn't stay. If I _have_ to have this power, wouldn't that be the least I could ask for?"

Sam's lips thinned. Tucker looked at her and slowly shook his head.

Valerie brought her book up to cover her face, scanning the pages without absorbing a single word.

Eventually, the weird tension let up.

"Couldn't we do an exorcism?" Tucker pointed at something in the book he was reading.

"Isn't that for possessions?" Sam frowned.

"I don't think ghosts can actually possess people," noted Valerie.

"No, I mean, this is a ritual to get rid of unwanted ghosts." Tucker placed the open book on the coffee table. "See, it says to right here. I think. Old English is weird."

"It literary says 'Banishment Ritual', not exorcism, you dork." Sam quickly turned the book around so she could look it over. "Hey, this could actually be what we're looking for."

"Really?" Danny leaned forward too quickly, nearly toppling over.

"You just write this magic mumbo-jumbo on the floor-" Tucker gestured towards the image, which contained plenty of symbols Valerie didn't recognize. "-say the magic words, and voilà! No more poltergeist."

"Listen, it's not that I don't trust the old dusty books... but doesn't this seem too good to be true?" Valerie wrapped her arms around herself. "We searched for a couple of _hours,_ and boom; banishment ritual."

"I don't see the problem." Tucker looked at Sam for assistance.

"I've got resources you don't." Sam leaned forward and gently placed a hand on Valerie's arm. "You shouldn't feel bad you didn't find this before-"

"I-" Valerie choked on the word. "I've never looked before."

"Then _of course_ you didn't find anything." Sam's eyes narrowed with irritation.

"You don't get it." Valerie shook her head. Anger coiled up in her gut like a snake, ready to strike. "It _shouldn't_ be this easy. I've spent years ignoring my powers, hoping they'd go away, and you're saying I could have found a way to get rid of angry ghosts if I just spent _a few hours_ looking? No. I won't accept that. That ritual is nothing but a fake."

"Well... we would need to test it." Tucker scratched his chin. "Wouldn't want to find out it's a dud when facing the poltergeist."

"Where would we even _find_ a ghost to test it on?" Sam's voice trailed off at the end, as she realised who was invisibly inhabiting the room.

Valerie made a point of not looking at Danny.

"I'd be fine with it," he said, a bit too cheerfully.

Valerie continued to not look at Danny.

"Really, Valkyrie." He sounded wistful, his genuine emotions cracking through the fake smile. "I would. I've spend fifteen years doing _nothing..._ I'd like to be useful for once."

"I'm not banishing you."

"Come on, my unfinished business is finished by now, thanks to you. Let me return the favour."

"What about your family?" Valerie tapped a finger against the spine of the book she was holding.

"Jazz moved on. She doesn't believe in ghosts and she doesn't need me. As for my parents... I really don't want to contact my parents as a ghost. Besides-" Danny pointed his thumbs at his best friends. "-these two were the ones I was worried about."

"Yeah, _no._ I'm not banishing you." Valerie gave Danny a long flat look, forcing him to be the one to break the intense eye contact. "We're going to the morgue."

"Yay, field trip," said Danny, like they hadn't been running all over town already.


	5. Chooser of the Slain

**AN:** Happy Halloween.

 **Chooser of the Slain**

Entering the morgue was easy enough, given that Valerie had a badge she could flash.

If Dr. Bart Rand, a short coroner with a neatly trimmed grey moustache, assumed Sam and Tucker were there to identify someone and then wanted some privacy to grieve... Well, that was his own fault.

As soon as they were alone, Tucker wiped away his fake tears and took up guard by the door.

Sam started scribbling down the appropriate symbols on the floor in finger paint. Sam had protested the choice of medium, but Tucker had eventually convinced her that they needed something that was easy to clean off.

Meanwhile, Valerie and Danny looked around for any signs of ghostly activity.

It wasn't hard.

In one corner sat a young girl, around fourteen years old. She bore more than a passing resemblance to Danny, with black hair and blue eyes. She was looking at them with a mixture of caution and curiosity on her face.

"Hello, there." Valerie kept her voice as soft as she could, not revealing her stress.

The girl jumped slightly at the address, but was quick to hide it. When she met Valerie's eyes, her expression was one of raw hope. "Hello? Are you talking to me?"

Valerie nodded.

The girl got up from her huddled crouch, walking closer to Valerie. "I thought..." There was a darting look towards one of the metal doors hiding the bodies. "I thought I might have died."

Valerie's vocal cords had tied themselves into a Gordian knot. Speaking was impossible.

The girl smiled and stretched out a hand, as if to grab onto Valerie to make sure she was real.

Danny stepped between them, catching the hand in a shake.

Valerie let out a small breath of relief.

"Hey, I'm Danny Fenton. That's Valerie Gray. What's your name?"

"Ellie Masters."

"Masters? As in Vlad Masters?" Danny smiled, but didn't seem more than amused by the idea.

"Yeah," Ellie nodded. There was something defensive about the set of her shoulders. "He's my dad."

"Good for him." Danny's response obviously eased whatever fear Ellie had, because she slouched down at the words.

"You know Vlad Masters?" Valerie couldn't help but side-eye Danny.

"He's got a TV that covers the entire living room wall, and good taste in movies."

Valerie refrained from commenting on that.

Ellie just blinked at them, not understanding the reference to Danny's habit for finding entertainment as a ghost.

"Anyway, we need to tell you something important." Danny herded the girl into a chair. "The reason you're here."

Ellie tensed slightly. There was weariness in her eyes, like she knew exactly what they were going to say. She probably did, given her previous reactions.

Valerie crouched down in front of the chair and offered her hand.

Ellie's fingers passed through Valerie's palm, feeling like the brief sensation of pins and needles.

"I wasn't wrong." Ellie slumped in her seat.

"No. You're a ghost." Valerie retracted her hand. "I'm a medium, but normal people can't see you."

Ellie shot a questioning look at Danny.

"I died years ago."

"Oh."

"Do you remember what happened to you?" Valerie leaned forward slightly, trying to appear calming.

"Erm. Yeah." The ghost girl blushed. Her fingers played with a lock of hair. "Turns out that dad _wasn't_ being an overprotective jerk." Ellie's voice had picked up pace, to the point where the words blended together. "Running around alone after dark in bad neighborhoods wasn't actually something I could handle... I remember a _really_ tall guy, and him saying my jacket looked expensive so I obviously had a lot of money, and then I remember blacking out."

Valerie nodded.

Danny scowled, but quickly schooled his expression. "Do you want to leave?"

"Leave?" Ellie frowned.

"I meant, like, go into the light. You don't have to stick around like I did."

"If I wanted to do that, I would have done it in the first place." Ellie crossed her arms.

"We can take a message to your dad, if you want," offered Danny.

 _'Right, because we can just waltz up to billionaire Vlad Masters and tell him his dead daughter says "hi".'_

Valerie carefully kept her internal sarcastic commentary from reflecting on her face.

Ellie bit her lip, obviously considering it.

The lights overhead flickered.

Valerie's heart picked up pace, pounding loudly in her ears. She stood up in a fluid motion, placing herself in front of Ellie.

There was a bitter taste in her mouth.

The light-bulb closest to the door exploded in a shower of sparks and glass. For a second, a humanoid form was barely visible behind the blinding light. Walker's image flickered like a badly tuned TV, static overtaking his body.

He tipped his hat at her, like an old-fashioned gentleman. The accompanying smile was all teeth.

Valerie raised her voice to warn Sam and Tucker of where Walker was, when strong fingers closed around her throat. Valerie's shout died as air left her lungs.

Black spots played behind her eyes.

The grip was ice cold, a cold that seemed to be spreading through her veins. She wasn't sure if that was due to Walker, or her own death rapidly approaching.

Suddenly, she found herself dropping to the floor. She gasped for air, making herself feel sick with the rush of it.

She blinked away the spots in her vision, looking up to find Danny standing in front of her.

Two more bulbs exploded.

After the flash of the explosions, the resulting darkness left Valerie scrambling to keep her footing. All the lights in the room had gone out, and the underground morgue didn't have windows. The only light left came from the corridor and the still open door.

The door shut itself.

Tucker pulled out his cell phone, turning on the flashlight, and Sam was quick to copy him.

"Get him into the circle!" Sam's shout shook Valerie from her reverie. However, the one who answered wasn't her.

"Got it!" Danny jumped, pushing the poltergeist towards the writing on the floor.

The first push didn't force Walker far enough.

Driven by desperation, Danny grabbed onto Walker's waist and ran them both into the circle.

"Danny!"

"Do it! Banish us!"

Over Danny's shoulder, Valerie's eyes met Walker's. The bright green hate was still there.

He was without a doubt the man she had killed.

By accident, sure. She hadn't aimed for his chest when she pulled the trigger, but the fight had meant she hadn't been able to control where the bullet landed.

He hadn't been a good person, but he had been a person. Someone with a future, which she had ripped from him.

Like he had been trying to do to Johnny.

"I'm sorry."

She wasn't sure if she was apologizing to Walker, Danny or herself.

Still, stopping Walker from killing people wasn't wrong. Not before, not now.

Valerie's voice came out strong as she recited the Latin Sam had made her learn. Sam and Tucker joined her, a background chorus in a dead language.

Sam's hair flew around her face, pulled by a wind that shouldn't have been able to blow inside the basement. The three of them all had to brace themselves against it.

Walker ripped himself out of Danny's grip and started towards Valerie, only to be stopped at the edge of the circle, as if there was an invisible wall barring his way. He raised both fists to bang at it, to no avail.

"Bye." Danny's voice cut through the chaos, barely audible.

Valerie's words came to a crescendo, and then it was over.

The circle was empty.

Valerie could barely rip her eyes from the sight as she dropped to her knees. Similarly, Ellie was standing to the side. Her eyes were wide as they took in the space that had previously housed the other two ghosts.

Relief and grief warred within Valerie. Walker was gone, but so was Danny.

Danny.

Danny's friends wouldn't know what had happened. Neither Sam nor Tucker could see ghosts.

For a fleeting moment, Valerie considered not telling them. Not because it would hurt them, but because they had no reason to be around her without her acting as an interpreter for their dead childhood friend.

Valerie quickly squashed the selfish motion.

"Danny..." After all the shouting, and the strangling, her throat felt sore. The words wouldn't come out. "Danny sacrificed himself."

Sam's lips thinned, but she nodded curtly. She avoided eye contact as she walked towards the door and opened it, letting in light once more.

"We figured he did, after the way you yelled his name." Tucker sent her a weak smile. He looked exhausted. "Besides, it's the sort of thing he'd do."

"He was a good person."

"That he was."

"I'm sorry." Valerie bit her lip. "I'll... leave you alone now."

To grieve, was the unspoken continuation.

"You don't need to." Unexpectedly, it was Sam who said it. "You were his friend too. Even if only a short time."

"And you're our friend," added Tucker.

"I am?" Valerie felt silly for asking it, but the words came out before she could stop them.

"There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other." Sam sounded like she was quoting something. "Facing down an angry poltergeist is one of them."

Tucker extended a hand, and Valerie gratefully took it to pull herself up.

* * *

Valerie leaned back in the sofa in Doctor Jasmine Fenton's office. Sunshine flowed freely through the large windows, illuminating the room. The cushions were comfortable.

Over by the bookshelves, Ellie Masters was reading the titles. Because apparently Valerie couldn't have a therapy session without being spied on by a ghost. Every once in a while Ellie offered sarcastic commentary, which pushed Valerie's poker face to its limits.

"You seem to be doing a lot better." Dr. Fenton clicked her pen. Her smile was warm. "What has changed?"

 _'Your dead brother helped me face down a poltergeist.'_

"Well, I guess I've got a different support system now." Valerie borrowed Dr. Fenton's term for it.

"That's good." Dr. Fenton leaned forward slightly.

"Yeah, I met some people. Made some friends." Shared some traumatic experiences that Valerie would talk to her shrink about, if said shrink believed in ghosts.

Ellie sent Valerie a smug look from her position by the bookshelf.

Dr. Fenton scanned her old notes, fingers flipping the pages. "Yes, we've talked about how you had trouble with that before."

Valerie had to smother a smile. Dr. Fenton had been the only one who had talked about it.

"And you seem to be have gotten some closure, regarding your old partner."

"I did." Valerie nodded. Nothing like facing down your problems in a battle to the death.

Fenton's eyes found the clock. The time was up. "If you keep this up, you'll be able to get back to active duty next month."

"Thank you."

"I guess that's it for today." Dr. Fenton looked hesitant. She never seemed to have as much time as she wanted, during Valerie's visits.

Ellie happily skipped out of the office, not waiting for Valerie.

"Yeah, see you next week." Valerie sent the other living woman a smile as she turned to leave. Then she paused by the door. "No, wait. Actually, there is something more."

Dr. Fenton- No, _Jazz –_ tilted her head in question.

"Me and my new friends are going to the pub. They said they knew you, so if you wanted to come along..."

"Really?" Jazz's smile became more genuine, less professionally distant. "I think I'll take you up on that."

Valerie grinned. "Great."


End file.
